


A Few Good Friends

by misura



Category: Burn Notice
Genre: M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 23:44:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2044698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"You know, Mikey," Sam said, opening up another bottle of beer with an ease that implied it was somewhere in between his fifth and fifteenth of the night, "One of these days, you're gonna get yourself killed. Or worse."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Few Good Friends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Missy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/gifts).



"You know, Mikey," Sam said, opening up another bottle of beer with an ease that implied it was somewhere in between his fifth and fifteenth of the night, "One of these days, you're gonna get yourself killed. Or worse."

Michael vaguely recalled someone telling him to not, under any circumstances, consume even a drop of alcohol while he was still on pain meds. It might have even been a real doctor, although possibly, that wasn't saying much in this country.

Besides, Sam never coughed up anything interesting when you hadn't at least had one drink with him.

"What's worse than death?"

Sam shrugged. "Beats me. Dishonor?"

"Really?" Michael arched an eyebrow and cautiously sipped his beer. Some local brew, so relatively cheap, which would be why Sam was drinking it. "Doesn't that sound a little - I don't know, old-fashioned?"

"So I'm an old-fashioned guy, so sue me."

"Sorry, that was some other guy. This guy right here, he's more of the hands-on type."

"Ha," Sam said and raised his bottle. "To Alan Crane. Good times."

"That's not what you said at the time." Michael hadn't particularly cared for the cover himself; a lot of rules and etiquette and talking nice while handing over considerable sums of money who almost certainly didn't deserve them. Going gunless nearly all the time.

"Well, I liked the suit," Sam said. "Say what you want about lawyers, but they know how to dress. The good ones, anyway."

"You mean the expensive ones who'll take on any scumbag as a client so long as he's rich."

Sam shrugged. "Yeah. Those."

Talking about past missions: not really the goal here. Michael drank some more of his beer, playing Guess the Ingredients Without Looking at the Label.

Sam didn't like silence, so odds were, he'd start talking again at some point.

"Word on the street is, we're not gonna be around here much longer."

"Here?" Michael asked. "Here, as in: this bar? This city?" Sam grinned. "This _country_?"

"Just rumors." Sam waved over the guy behind the bar. "Nothing concrete, but - well, you know. Where there's smoke, there's usually someone playing around with matches. Yeah, hi. Two more of these, _por favor_? _Dos_? _Muchas gracias_ , buddy."

"I don't think they speak Spanish around here." Michael'd been briefed on several useful phrases in the three most common local languages, of course. Stuff like: _shoot that man_ and _don't hurt me - I'm from Canada_.

"Nonsense. Guy understands me just fine, don't you, Mr Bar Keep?"

Given that two new bottles were, indeed, delivered to their table with a smile that was only a little bit sullen, Michael decided not to argue the point. "You got a timeline?"

"Sure don't," Sam said cheerfully. "But hey, why don't you ask your bosses, see what they've got to say about it? See - that's the difference between you and me, Mikey. Me, I just gotta follow orders and keep my mouth shut."

Michael decided nobody'd ever made himself popular by pointing out the obvious.

"You - well, showing initiative's kind of in your job description, isn't it? Might even get you a promotion, show your head's in the game."

"Funny."

Sam shrugged good-naturedly. "Your choice. You knew the job was dirty when you took it."

Michael said nothing. It was true - as true as it was that _somebody_ had to do it. "Is there _any_ alcohol in this stuff? Because mostly, I'm tasting water."

"Well, I think they boil it at some point in the process, so, you know, it's safer than actual drinking water - bottled or not. Plus, I think they put a surprise taste in sometimes. So far, I've encountered lemon, apple and strawberry."

"Amazing what people come up with."

"Hey, it could work back in the good old US of A," Sam said. "The next big thing. Although, yeah, they should probably put in some serious alcohol to satisfy the jaded American palate."

"I don't know. I mean, I don't really see people lining up around the block for a chance to drink a beer that tastes like strawberry."

"Good point," Sam acknowledged. "All right, so maybe it's not going to be the next big thing. Say, you wanna go somewhere a little more private, have ourselves some R and R?"

"That didn't end so well last time."

"Hey, it's not my fault some people don't recognize a beautiful thing when it's happening right underneath their balcony. Besides, my leave's up in another six hours, and they told us everybody's gotta be ready to move out within the next forty-eight hours."

Michael raised his bottle. "You're a good friend, Sam."

"And don't you forget it, Mikey."


End file.
